


The two of us in there forever.

by FluxPoe



Series: Hand Out Skulls; Flowers Will Fall [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A small sex scene I guess, F/M, Flashbacks, Sad, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluxPoe/pseuds/FluxPoe
Summary: It's been a long way for Reiner... For you, too.
Relationships: Reiner Braun & Reader, Reiner Braun/Reader, Reiner Braun/You
Series: Hand Out Skulls; Flowers Will Fall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127225
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67





	The two of us in there forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it alright if I hold you in my heart?

Vision blurry, oscillating between being awake and slipping asleep again, he can softly hear the other recruits outside, the bustling squad leaders ordering the soldiers around: he's got to get up soon, grab one of those incipit pieces of bread and sit down to listen to the chit-chatting and bickering —his eyelids open, force themselves to blink shut again and prompt him to blink the drowsiness away. 

His friends aren't here; it's the merchants that are bustling outside, it's the people going off to do their errands that pass by his house, it's not a flavourless nutritional bar what awaits him for breakfast. He's in Liberio.

_“What's the first thing you'll do when you get home?” You asked._

_Reiner chuckled to himself, “Give my mom a hug, have the biggest meal I've had in my life.”_

The sheets are too warm and too soft, even though they're not the best, he's still sure he never had anything close to these while in training; it wasn't that much of a shame to have thin and stiff bedware, as he'd even slept in that old, box-crammed, storage once, just to pass the night beside you.

_You grabbed the sheets tightly, snuggling between them and Reiner; his arm surrounding your waist in a relaxed manner (still, it secured you under it just from its weight). He was all you needed to warm up, you let out a sleep-laced contented sigh._

He's awake, now; completely so. He lays the sheet neatly on his bed and pats the pillow in place. He's moving automatically: toilet, brushing teeth (avoid the mirror), make coffee, sit (stare at the cup). 

_You shivered on top of him, your thighs squeezing his legs, and tried to pull away (since he followed, unwilling to let your lips part) from the kiss; once successful, you hid in the crook of his neck. “You taste...” Again, you grinded against him, “Really good– it's coffee,” out of breath, “but richer.”_

_It took him a moment to process whatever you'd just said, tracing his hands up and down your sides, below your shirt. “It's from my hometown,” Reiner licked his lips, “I'll give you some,” and dove to the —oh, almost beckoning— expanse of neck you'd kindly exposed for him, hastily biting and licking at a spot until you whimpered and squeezed him, a string of saliva still hanging onto his lips and towards your neck, “Next time.”_

His cup is half empty when he relinquishes it; his clothes are quickly piled in a corner of the bathroom, and the room is steadily filled with steam –his lungs too, as he sucks in a breath at the touch of the warm water. 

“ _Reiner.” You moan: the first time you'd ever said his name with such neediness. Yes. Yes, what luscious sounds you're making, and he couldn't hold back either, pushing himself inside of you completely; it felt so unlike anything else you two had done —yes, he wanted to cum, but he also wanted to spend more and more time feeling how your body sucked his member; how you clinged onto him, nails grazing and scratching his back, legs around his waist and pulling him deeper every time he thrusted, “Yes, R-Reiner, harder-”_

Reiner groans and scrunches his eyes, stilling his hand as he spills himself on the wall —behind his eyelids you still lay there, stomach and breasts covered in the white liquid. He lets go and grabs the bar of soap, letting the water pour directly over himself, as he scrubs away the traces of his memories. 

He closes the faucet, snags the towel from where it hangs and pats himself dry, exiting the, still, steam-filled room before he feels himself suffocating; he can't bear to look at the place he's been using to think of you lately. No: he busies himself. 

His picks the same shirt, the same trousers, the same shoes and the same coat he always wears; he grabs the keys from their place on the edge of his dresser; Reiner stops just a few steps away from the door, rubs his stubble and wonders (as usual) if he should shave it (again), before he stuffs his hand into his coat's pocket and walks out. He'll think about it for a whole week before actually deciding whether to shave it or not.

_The wind is strong on top of the wall, and every soldier is either exahusted or busy (and you haven't reached the top, probably only halfway up), Bertholdt is right beside him and Eren is standing there, almost at arms length:_ it's now or never _, he thought, and so he told Eren everything._

He walks on the road, rather than the sidewalk, avoiding any sort of congestion and most of the people who (know nothing about him and) look up at him like he's– _No_. Stone pavement, stone buildings, stone _walls;_ he takes a puff from his cigarette, fiddles with they key in his coat's pocket, and looks the other way, at the stalls set up on the other side, merchants organising their fruits and vegetables, the buyers eyeing each stall carefully while their energetic children run around: people just... Being.

_Of course you'd told him, yes, you told him how you'd ran out of your home, mother and father right beside you, unaware of what all the commotion outside was about, only to find the sky covered by the gigantic steaming face of the Colossal Titan. You'd almost been stomped by the swarm of people, fleeing for their lives –without anything, your family attempted to flee towards the inner wall amongst everyone else. You were so-_

Close. He's almost there, the closer he gets more people seem to recognize him, not as the Armoured Titan, but as himself; it's obvious they know why he's there. Reiner only nods at their greetings, not focusing on their faces —its as if he can look past them, blur them out of his sight; he doesn't want to see the downcast look they give him.

_Those wide-open eyes, parting-lips, that tremor on your hands as you try to get a hold of your blades. He didn't get to see whether you were crying —or perhaps it was him— as he transformed into... Whatever he is: perhaps you can only see he's one of the things that killed your parents. Your face could have only shown him despair._

He's inside the building.

_Ymir opened her mouth to spit you and Historia on her hand._

He grabs the key in his pocket, rubs it whilst walking down the stairs.

_You were almost petrified, unable to runaway. He makes the decision for you: he runs away, holding you inside his fist._

He twists the key.

_When he got back to Liberio, he was told you hadn't spoken a word, you'd barely moved, eaten less than half of whatever they gave you._

It isn't hard to find you in the small square room.

You're against the wall —both bed and chair ignored— holding your knees close to your chest, arms wrapped around them, and everything about you is disheveled. He approaches you, who is only blinking a few tears way; cheeks and nose red, as he's grown used to seeing you lately.

Reiner kneels in front of you, only then getting you to look directly at him, “I'm back,” your name is enough to form a lump in his throat.

Your eyes fill up quickly and you're sobbing, as you've been doing more often nowadays.

He wishes one day he'll stop being an egoist, but for now he can only find comfort in seeing you there, broken yet still alive and clinging onto him —your only hope. 

He can't live without you, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello. I haven't written in a long while but Reiner's caught my attention, lately. He's quite a sad character, so I thought writing something with that in mind would be the best. Still, I feel as if something's lacking in my story...
> 
> I appreciate criticism very much. In fact, I couldn't be happier with recieving anything else, so fire away.


End file.
